


Drabbles A to Z

by inkstiel (Theconsultingdetective)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bondage, Bottom!Cas, Coming Untouched, DeanCas - Freeform, Dom!Cas, Drug Use, Impact Play, M/M, MCD, Major character death - Freeform, Panties, SPN - Freeform, Semi-Public Sex, Shibari, Slapping, Stoned Sex, Sub!Dean, Suspension, Wax Play, bottom!Dean, praise!kink, top!dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-11 09:24:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11145573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theconsultingdetective/pseuds/inkstiel
Summary: Drabbles of all shapes and sizes: some porn, some fluff, some angst.





	1. G is for Giggling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean, Cas, a supply closet, pot, the Big Kielbasa

“Lawrence County Public Library,” Dean greets at the sound of the “ring for service” bell, his back to the desk as he stocks books put on hold. “How can I—“ There’s another ding, and another. “Hey, I’m comin’. Take it easy.”

Ding, ding, ding, dingdingdingdingding.

“Dean.” Dean turns, shelving the last book.

“Hey, Cas. Tryn’a break the bell, smartass?” He leans his elbows on the desk, sliding the bell away from his friend, who is suspiciously red-eyed and skunky-smelling.

“I’ve always wanted to see the staff room, Dean,” Cas hums, an easy smile on his face. “Can you take me back there? I have something for you.”

“That something green?” Dean teased as he scanned in a round of returns. “You buy it from Aaron?” 

Cas shakes his shaggy-haired head.

“Gabriel this time. He calls this strain “The Big Kielbasa.””

“The Big Kielbasa,” Dean repeats, looking around. The library is understandably empty on the Tuesday evening, and he’s one of three working the front desk, so he figures, what the hell. Sneaking off into some storeroom to get stoned with his weirdo fuckbuddy sure beats checking out copies of plotless gay supernatural romances and getting hit on by blue-hairs.

“Okay, come on,” he said, nodding at the swinging door to the staff area. “But don’t get all giggly, capice?”

“Ooh, yes, sir,” Cas grinned, already giggling.

Great.

Dean led him to a quiet room, a storeroom full of cleaning supplies, with, thank god, no smoke alarm.

“C’mere, c’mere,” Dean coaxes, flicking on the light. He moves the mops and bottles of Fabuloso and closes the door, and settling on the ground against the far wall with Cas.

By the time he’s comfortable, Cas has already lit another joint, and was offering it to Dean, held between two fingers.

“I had the last one all to myself,” he shrugs by way of explanation. Dean laughs.

“Such a giver.”  
He takes the joint, breathing in a lungful of greenish-grey smoke, and Cas leans over to kiss it back and forth with him, sighing into each other’s mouths.

By the time the joint is all smoked, they’re both full of a dull, cottony high, loose-limbed and smiling. Even Dean can’t keep to his no-giggling rule  
.  
“You’re so pretty in the dark,” Cas tells him, stroking his cheek, laying tiny kisses in the wake of his hand.

“What, where you can’t see me?” Dean laughs, brushing through his hair. Cas drops his head, sucking at his neck.

“That’s not what I mean,” he dismisses, his lips never going far from Dean’s skin. “I would very much like to have sex with you now, Dean.” Dean grins, head lolling against the wall.

“So romantic.” Cas clambers into his lap.

“I never claimed to be romantic,” he says, tugging Dean’s flannel off, then his shirt, in short order. “I just claimed to want to fuck you.” He kisses his chest, and Dean giggles, their hips rocking and grinding together.

“We can make that happen,” he smiles, and picks Cas up in one fluid motion, pinning him up against the wall between a few hanging brooms and some dustpans.

“You’re breaking your giggling rule.”

Dean pulls his shirt off and casts it aside (into a mop bucket, but hey, it’s dark).

“Didn’t even realize I was doing it,” he admits, letting Cas down to shimmy out of his jeans and tug his underwear—tiny printed briefs, soft and cottony—off.

“You are precious when you’re stoned,” Cas replies as Dean hikes his legs back up around his waist, unbuttoning his jeans and letting Cas tug the zipper down while they kiss and grin against each others’ lips.

“Thanks for visiting me, baby,” Dean smiles, giving Cas a few quick strokes before sliding his hand back and beaming when he finds the base of a cold, marble plug nestled between his cheeks.

“I know what I want,” Cas laughs. “I came here to get it.” Dean wriggles the plug out of him, setting it on a rack, and lines himself up, easing in, his pants around his thighs and his whole body warm and floating.  
When they’re pressed together, Cas’ head thunks against the wall, and he huffs out a little happy laugh.

“I guess I’m getting two Big Kielbasas tonight,” he says, sending Dean into a spiral of giggles, his forehead falling into the crook of Cas’ neck.

“You fucking dork. You big fucking dork,” he grins, giving little lazy rocks of his hips, bruising his neck with hickeys. Once the laughter washes over him, he picks up a real pace, but the two of them are still smiling at nothing, even as Dean’s thrusts fall out of rhythm. He wraps a hand around Cas, stroking easy and caramel-drip slow, and Cas comes with a grin and another huffing chuckle.

Dean follows right after, and then they’re laughing again, and kissing, touches soft and lingering.

“I love doing this with you,” Dean says, because it’s as close as he’s going to get to the truth.

“I love doing this with you, too,” Cas agrees. “Now, let me down. I have to get my clothes out of the mop bucket. And I think you owe Gabriel a thank-you note.” Dean smiles, pulling his clothes back on.

“I think so, too. And maybe I’ll waive his library fines for the rest of his life, what do you think?”

“I don’t think that man has ever cracked a book in his life,” Cas laughs, pulling his mercifully dry shirt back on. “Will I see you later?”

“Sure,” Dean nods. “We’ll grab breakfast tomorrow. And maybe we’ll make it through it without a dick joke.” He smiles, opening the door just enough to slip out. “I had fun with you, Cas. I’ll see you around.”

“See you, Big Kielbasa,” Cas winks back, and Dean just scoffs, one more time, rolls his eyes, and eases the door back shut again.


	2. L is for Lollipop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In May, when the weather is nice, Dean cleans out his car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major character death in this chapter! Nothing graphic, but give it a miss if you're here for the fluff or the smut.

In May, when the weather is nice, Dean cleans out his car.

He goes through every nook and cranny; it’s never too dirty, but sometimes there’s flotsam and jetsam, mostly from Cas, in the cupholders, under the seats. 

He finds the lollipop in the glove compartment. It’s a big, old fashioned one, wrapped in clear plastic, patterned carefully with delicate swirls. They got it when they visited Gatlinburg, a couple of weeks ago. 

Cas had coaxed him into riding the skylift, and Dean white-knuckled his hand the whole time, staring at Cas to keep himself from looking down. 

Once they got off, Cas agreed to let Dean pick their next spot, and Dean, without a moment’s hesitation, said: taffy. 

So they wandered until they found a little candy store, and stood outside like kids, watching the taffy puller spin and twist like a clockwork. 

They got a bucket—a literal bucket, with enough sugar and good stuff to turn Sam’s hippie-hair white. 

That’s where Cas picked up the lollipop, from a stand by the checkout, sticking it in the top of the bucket of saltwater taffy like a flag. Once they were free of the swarm of kids in the store, Dean made an oral fixation joke, and Cas blushed all the way back to the car. 

On the way home, they snacked on the taffy, and cracked jokes, and laughed and sang to the radio. As soon as they were parked back in the bunker’s driveway, Dean made good on that joke, and the lollipop ended up forgotten in the glove box. 

It was good, that day. 

But that was months ago. Cas is dead, now, he’s been dead for a while, and Dean’s been shoving all of his feelings down until that godforsaken lollipop becomes the tiny thing that snaps his tenuous control he tries to exercise over his emotions. 

He sits in the car, in the driver’s seat, swiping his teary eyes with his palms until he’s deadened again, and then puts the lollipop back in the glove compartment.  
Because hey, maybe he’ll come back. 

Maybe he’ll pop up someday, and Dean will be able to hug him again, and kiss him again, and tell him that he loves him again.  
But for now, he’ll wait. 

It’s May. Dean is cleaning out his car.

Now, it’s empty, but for a few faded family photos of people he’s lost, of Bobby and Mom and Cas, and a lollipop, and a quiet, still man, his mind miles away and months ago, in a candy shop with the person he loves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm [beecoveredcas](beecoveredcas.tumblr.com) on tumblr.


	3. P is for Panties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean, Cas, and panties.

Dean has panties of every colour, and in every fabric. His favourite, though, are the jewel-toned green ones with the ribbons that criss-cross the open back and little pastel green bows above the crotch.

He likes them when they’re pulled aside so Cas can fuck him, bunched up to one side as Cas pounds him into the mattress. 

He likes them most of all when they’re come-soaked and flung aside, ignored on the floor of his room while he and Cas relax in bed. 

Dean has panties of every colour. He, and Cas, like them most when they’re off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably write another for "p," since this one is so skimpy, pun intended. I'm on tumblr at [beecoveredcas.](beecoveredcas.tumblr.com)


	4. S is for Slapping

His cheek still stinging, Dean tips his pink-tinted face up and catches his breath. Catching his breath, parted lips shining with spit, he spoke.

“Another one. Please.” Cas' hand came down and stroked his cheek, gentle for the first time. Dean leaned into it, eyes closing, half nuzzling into his hand. His eyes are still closed when the next slap hits, and he lets himself move with it, lets the force turn his head just barely. 

Tied up as he was, bound in silk ribbons like wings that held him above the ground, disconnected from the world, so keenly adrift and yet viscerally present, he feels the blood thud and thrum through his ears, feels the heat of his face that flushes and prickles with the phantom touch. 

His cock, also wrapped in soft and smooth cloth that rubs almost enough but not quite, jumped against his stomach, leaving clear precome smeared against his sweat prickled skin. It's nearly as red as his cheek, neglected and aching. He's been being smacked around for what feels like hours, days, handfed food and sips of water in between slaps and gratifying tastes of Cas' cock rubbed along his yearning lips, just enough to keep them both from bursting with want.

He shifted in the bonds, felt himself rock and sway, so enclosed and yet untethered to anything, as if he could float away from the combination of need and a stinging palm against his face. 

He tilted his face up again, opened his green eyes that prick with tears. All he had to say was "please" and Cas knew. 

Cas always knew. 

"This is the last one," he said. "Make it count." He thumbed at Dean's lower lip, and Dean wanted nothing more than to suck the warm finger into his too-empty mouth, but he knew an act out of turn like that would lead to him being left alone, in the dark of the empty room, tied up with nothing. 

"Close your eyes," Cas said, bringing him back to reality. Dean did, and Cas was silent, leaving him to wait, to expect, to brace for a slap that didn't come and didn't come and didn't come until the weight and sear of an open palm fell against his cheek, the crack of the contact the only sound in the room.

He jerked against the ribbons that suspended him, mouth opened in a gasp as he surprised them both by emptying over the silken cloth and onto his stomach, dripping down onto the floor. No sooner had he wrung himself out then Cas was beside him, hands tender on his skin, cooing, "You did so well, that was beautiful, I'm so proud of you." Even in his haze, Dean found Cas' mouth, kissed him breathlessly and gratefully. The world came back into focus, and Dean's watery eyes locked on Cas' face, so kind, so benevolent. 

"How are you?" he asked, and Dean just nodded, Cas already unwrapping him from the lengths of ribbon and lowering him tenderly to the ground. "You did so well. That was amazing, Dean." Dean lowered his head, flushing pink all over.

"You did so well. I think you deserve a treat next time," he said, and Dean nodded, already eager. "Maybe we should find a way to occupy that mouth of yours next time, hm?" Dean just closed his eyes, a little smile on his face, slumping exhausted into the warm arms of his Cas, his love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's longer than most. I'm on tumblr at [beecoveredcas.](beecoveredcas.tumblr.com)


	5. W is for Wax

The birthday candles look deceptively innocent, with their vibrant colors and their small stature. 

But dripped over Dean’s body, hot and liquid, running down the hills and valleys of his back and the sloping curves of his ass, they’re anything but. 

Cas was hesitant at first, but watching Dean twitch and write against the bed, trying so hard to adhere to Cas’ firm instructions of be still, Dean, any second guessing, any reticence, is all gone. It’s replaced with heart-thudding eagerness and want, watching Dean’s bare skin become a tapestry of stacked, streaking colour. 

When the candles are burned down to tiny nubs, and Cas’ tongue has wrung two orgasms out of Dean, Cas rubs lotion over the barely-red swaths of his back, the wax chips away. He climbs onto the bed beside him, with every intention of picking up more of those innocent candles as soon as he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Waxplay is something I've always wanted to write. I'm on tumblr at [beecoveredcas.](beecoveredcas.tumblr.com)


	6. Y is for Yellow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean doesn't like yellow, but he loves Cas.

Dean hates the color yellow. 

“It’s like a bruise,” he says as Cas scans the wall of colours at Home Depot. “Or a smoker’s teeth. It’s nasty, man.” He reaches for a paint chip [Raucous Orange](https://www.sherwin-williams.com/homeowners/color/find-and-explore-colors/paint-colors-by-family/SW6883-raucous-orange#/6883/?s=coordinatingColors&p=PS0), a warm, rich burnt sienna. “Here, how about this?”

“Dean, yellow is nice,” Cas insists, pulling a soft, buttery colour, [Butterfield](https://www.sherwin-williams.com/homeowners/color/find-and-explore-colors/paint-colors-by-family/SW6676-butterfield#/6676/?s=coordinatingColors&p=PS0). “It’s like a sunset. Or a honeybee. Don’t you want to have a honeybee kitchen?” Dean rolls his eyes, trying to overcome Cas’ insurmountable earnest stubbornness. 

“How about green?” Dean suggests, pulling [Inland](https://www.sherwin-williams.com/homeowners/color/find-and-explore-colors/paint-colors-by-family/SW6452-inland#/6452/?s=coordinatingColors&p=PS0), a soft, true green. “Like…this? Green is nice. Like grass, huh?”

“This is like your eyes,” Cas agrees, reaching for another colour, a hazel, [Paradise](https://www.sherwin-williams.com/homeowners/color/find-and-explore-colors/paint-colors-by-family/SW6720-paradise#/6720/?s=coordinatingColors&p=PS0). He holds it up beside Dean’s eyes, nods, and pockets it, Dean smiling fondly at him. “But I like yellow better, for the kitchen. We can have your eyes in the bedroom.” Dean huffs and pinks, looking at the swatch in Cas’ hands. 

He’s right, it is nice. It’s a golden, smooth, like light on Cas’ face in the morning or the way Cas says his hair looks in the summer, when he gets lots of sun. 

“Okay,” he grunts. “Butterfield. But you’re helping me paint, and you’re doing it in your short shorts, so at least I can see somethin’ I like lookin’ at.” He looks back down to the chip of Butterfield and smiles as Cas kisses his cheek. 

Yellow might not be Dean’s favourite colour, sure. But as he slides the paint chip across the counter to the clerk and asks for a few gallons of the stuff, his arm wrapped around Cas, he knows, he loves Cas, and that makes it a little more bearable.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [beecoveredcas](beecoveredcas.tumblr.com) on tumblr.


End file.
